I make my way all the way to the back to my self-appointed territory. It’s quieter here, removed from the energy of the team. I stash my bag in the overhead compartment and keep my laptop, phone, and headphones out, then settle into one of the last rows.
The flight attendants make their rounds with friendly smiles, double-checking seat belts and distributing waters. I take a moment to text my sister, forwarding her my flight info.
ME:
Just boarded. Will call with hotel details later. No spoilers online, you know the rules.
ANNA:
Ugh fine. I still can’t wait to see you! And youbetterintroduce me to all the hot soccer players.
I roll my eyes but can’t stop the grin tugging at my mouth. Of course she’s thinking about the players. Everyone does.
A burst of laughter comes from up front. The season is just starting, the first game in Houston looming ahead, and I can already feel the weight of it. The team needs each other forthis. On the field, all the noise fades, the cameras, the fans, the sponsors. It’s just them, and if they can trust each other completely, they have one hundred percent more chances of winning.
I lean back, tuck my headphones in, and let myself exhale. Time to get my head in the game too.
Laptop open. Check.
Headphones in. Check.
Feet pulled in as tight as possible because, apparently, my legs have become a mile long. Check.
The faint hum of the engines is almost soothing as I scroll through clips from this week’s practices, trimming, color correcting, tagging my favorites for posting later. I’m barely ten minutes into editing when someone sits on my row.
I blink.
Slowly, because moving fast might make it real, I turn my head. Of all the people on this plane, of all theemptyseats on this plane, there he is. Rogue Gallagher. Six feet four of grumpy, carved-from-stone, scowling glory… in the aisle seat of my row.
He doesn’t look at me, not really, he just gives the briefest nod in my direction, like my existence is a minor but acceptable inconvenience, before settling in. His long legs stretch into the aisle, his forearms resting on his thighs, a black hoodie framing his annoyingly handsome face.
The seat beside me suddenly feels too small and there’s this faint scent of soap and leather clinging to him that makes my pulse stutter. The steady hum of the plane is drowned out by the awareness of him sitting inches away.
I glance at the rest of the plane. Row after row of empty seats. Plenty of room for him to brood literally anywhere else, and yet… he is here.
I slide one side of my headphones off my ear, unsure if I should say something or pretend this is completely normal. Myheart is doing that annoying thing where it flutters like I just drank three espressos.
“Uh… hey…” I say, my voice slightly higher than I’d prefer.
“Lass.” He leans back, closing his eyes like he owns the sky.
Of course, one word, one stupid syllable, and I’m internally combusting.
Chapter 10
Ikeep my eyes closed, even though every inch of me knows she’s staring. Daggers. Curious, sharp, and sweet all at once.
I don’t say a word, waiting to see what my little kitten does first. There are at least sixty empty seats on this plane, yet here I am, dropping into the aisle seat of her chosen row.Mychosen row.
“Gallagher.”
I crack one eye open. There she is, Catalina Arismendi, all crossed arms and raised brows, just about ready to give me a ticket for trespassing. We’re on a last-name basis now, I see. I let a slow grin tug at the corner of my mouth. “Kitten?”
Her blush is instant, blood rushing up her neck, flooding her cheeks.Christ.
My feckin’ blood has been rushing to a very different place all week every time I’ve seen her bent over her camera bag, laughingat some rookie’s stupid joke, flashing that smile that damn near kills me. I’ve had to get myself off to thoughts of her more nights than I care to admit. Thoughts of that smile—and that ass.God, that ass…
Christ above, Gallagher. Cop yourself on.
